


Christmas Cookies

by LavenderandLouisa



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:47:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21989734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavenderandLouisa/pseuds/LavenderandLouisa
Summary: Brienne is Tommen's kindergarten teacher and observations over his homemade Christmas cookies lead to developments with his Uncle Jaime.  (Jaime is NOT the father and never had an incestuous relationship with Cersei).My idea for this fic was a one-shot entirely different from what resulted, so it's likely there will be a similarly titled second unrelated work.  I was on an 8-hour plane ride, so I had a lot of time on my hands, hence the different fic.This was also written on my phone, so please ignore all the typos and lack of paragraph spaces.  I hope that doesn't annoy you as much as it annoys me!Thanks for reading!
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 36
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

“And what have you got there, Tommen?” Brienne Tarth, teacher extraordinaire, asked as she wandered around her kindergarten class at snack time. Tommen was sitting in a corner by himself, as always, while most of the other students ate their snacks in groups.   
“Christmas cookies,” he whispered, smiling shyly. The smile was practically a Christmas miracle. His transition to the full-day program had been a challenging one and he still wasn't quite comfortable with making friends or talking to many people. His uncle, Jaime Lannister, was friends with Sansa, another teacher at the school, and had specifically requested Brienne for Tommen when he learned of Brienne's success with students with learning disabilities or delayed development, made even better by her specialization in child psychology when she pursued dual degree. After almost half a year, Brienne wasn't sure she was living up to the expectations Sansa had set.   
Brienne patted him on the back soothingly. “You did a great job! Can you tell me what they are?”   
“This is a present,” he said, pointing to a lopsided square with squiggly lines and polka dots. “This is Santa! Ho ho ho!” he said, pointing to a cookie in the shape of a blob that was mostly red with some white on one side. “And this,” he said, pointing to a brown blob with a red dot, “is Rudolph!”  
“Very cute, Tommen! You did a great job making these!” She was proud of Tommen’s efforts particularly because he was reluctant to draw in class. She was trying to foster creativity in him as a way to help him cope with being removed from his mother's home and placed with his uncle in Winterfell, on the opposite end of the country from where he was born, but it wasn't until a month earlier that he stopped bursting into tears at the thought of art projects and even now, he still wouldn't participate fully in class.   
Brienne started to move on to the next student when a shy voice replied, “I didn't make them. Uncle Jaime did.”  
Brienne paused. An adult made these cookies? Frankly, Sansa's fourth graders had done a better job when they made cookies for the holiday party.   
“He was really excited,” Tommen went on, “but Myrcella said Mom thought Christmas cookies were stupid, so I told Uncle Jaime I didn't want to help him. Even though I really wanted to make cookies.” He frowned. “They're not very good, are they? But I didn't want to tell him that.”  
Brienne struggled to react appropriately. There was so much to unpack in all of that – being governed by his abusive and neglectful mother’s opinion, being afraid to do something he wanted, being afraid to criticize his uncle’s poorly made cookies, but at the same time, being willing to confide in Brienne. She would have to have a word with Jaime about most of this at the end of the day (maybe leaving out how bad his cookies were), something Jaime encouraged a few weeks into the school year when he realized Tommen did better if he was picked up from school than if he took the bus and that he could get much more regular and thorough reports on Tommen's progress.   
“All Christmas cookies look different, Tommen, just like all people. It doesn't mean they're not any good. What's important is that Uncle Jaime tried his best and had fun.” Brienne was very good at turning most things into learning opportunities.   
“But I don’t think he had fun, Miss Tarth. He cried when he put the cookies into the oven. I don't think he knows I saw him. He looked so sad.”  
“Oh, Tommen, I'm sorry.” Brienne was almost at a loss for words. Seeing that the other children were still preoccupied with snack time, she sat on the floor next to Tommen.  
Tears started to well up in Tommen's eyes. “He gets sad a lot, Miss Tarth. What if,” he sniffed, “what if we make him sad and he wishes we never came to live with him?”  
“That's not possible, Tommen,” Brienne assured him, pulling him into a big bear hug. “Your uncle loves you more than anything in the world.” And I'll make sure he knows to prove that to you, she thought to herself, stealing herself for a very difficult conversation with Jaime at the end of the day.   
However, at the end of the day, Jaime didn't come for Tommen. Brienne tried desperately to make Tommen unaware of each passing minute without him since one of the precipitating factors to being pulled from his mother's home was when he and his sister were left at daycare overnight with no word from Cersei. Brienne didn't want to raise that memory now. Instead, she put Tommen at a desk with a box of crayons and asked him to draw his own Christmas cookies, which he was much more willing to do as the only student in the room. While he was doing that, Brienne called down to Sansa's room.  
“Hi Bri! What's going on?”  
Brienne checked to make sure that Tommen wasn't listening before speaking quietly into the phone. “Is Myrcella still in your room? Jaime hasn't come to pick up Tommen yet. I'm getting worried.”  
“I'm sorry, I assumed you knew since you talk to Jaime every day. Yes, she's still here. Jaime's at the sept. It's the anniversary of his mother's death, almost thirty years ago. I offered to take them both home if he gets stuck there too long. You can join me, if you want. Maybe we could get them dinner?”  
Sansa was Jaime's closest friend in Winterfell, so it was only natural that she would have permission to take the children at the end of the day in the case of an emergency, but Brienne felt bad that she hadn't realized why today was different. She thought she'd gotten to know Jaime, but now felt foolish for assuming that. Just because they shared an interest in history and knights in shining armor didn't mean she actually knew Jaime.   
“And before you even say it, you're not intruding. Jaime loves you.” There was a pause that Brienne could only describe as extremely awkward. “He’s been working up the courage to get to know you outside of school.” Sansa let the implication hang in the air, but Brienne wasn't falling for it.   
“Okay, fine,” Sansa huffed at Brienne's silence, “but I think you two would be a great couple. You're basically a child psychologist and a miracle worker to children, he's a regular psychologist. You're both tall, almost the same age, the same sense of humor.”  
Brienne burst out laughing, then quickly covered her mouth, hoping she hadn't drawn Tommen's attention. A glance over her shoulder showed that he was still engrossed in his drawing.   
“You're crazy, Sansa! Jaime is,” she paused, glancing over her shoulder again to make sure Tommen wasn't listening, “practically a male model. He's gorgeous. I'm… anything but. I'm awkward. We get along just fine regarding Tommen, but that's it.”  
Sansa sighed. “You're really clueless sometimes, Bri. Why do you think he comes to talk to you every day?”  
“To discuss Tommen. You know he hasn't transitioned well. He's very sensitive.”  
“Jaime doesn't need an update every single day. He may have been thrown into parenthood unexpectedly, but he's a psychologist and can handle raising children just fine. He babysat Arya, Bran, and Rickon all four years of college because Mum didn't trust me or Robb with them.”  
Brienne felt a tug on her sleeve and looked down to see Tommen holding up a picture of stick figures and giant Christmas cookies.   
“Look at my picture, Miss Tarth.”  
Brienne ended the call with Sansa, promising to pack up her things and Tommen’s things and meet them at 4:00 if there was still no word from Jaime. She turned to Tommen with a smile. “Tell me what you drew.”  
“This is me and this is Myrcy. And there's Uncle Jaime,” he said. “And these are new Christmas cookies.” He stopped. Tere was a fourth blonde figure next to Jaime, though.  
“Who's that, Tommen?” Brienne asked, worried it would be his mom.   
“That's you, Miss Tarth! Because you and Uncle Jaime and Myrcy are my favorite people and I wish we could be one happy family!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the confusion, everyone! This is a multi-chapter fic. I don't usually post from my phone and when I selected the multi-chapter box, it didn't actually register that it's multi-chapters!
> 
> Thank you all for commenting!

A few hours later, Brienne found herself cooking and cleaning with Sansa while the kids played. Jaime had politely asked for a few hours to himself after visiting the sept, which Sansa had been more than prepared for. She convinced him that all three should stay for dinner by telling him that Brienne would be there as well. Brienne failed to see the relevance.   
“I told you, Sansa, we talk every day about Tommen. He just wants to know how his nephew is doing, not me!”  
Sansa ignored her and continued to make the pasta and meatballs until the doorbell rang, announcing Jaime's arrival.   
“Uncle Jaime!!!” The kids ran to the door, ecstatic to see their uncle. He knelt down with open arms and took them into a huge hug.   
“Tom,” he said, kissing him on the head and ruffling his hair. “Myrcy,” he continued, doing the same to her. Then he got up and embraced Sansa, kissing her on the cheek. He turned to Brienne and moved as if to hug her, then stopped. “Sorry, I’m just used to hugging the Starks. I know you're basically an honorary Stark and all, but I don't usually see you socially.” He hesitated, completely unsure of himself.   
“Oh, just hug her, Jaime!” Sansa laughed.   
Jaime stepped closer and wrapped Brienne in his arms, then gave her a light kiss on the cheek. It took Brienne a moment to recover from the electricity pulsing through her veins where he had touched her. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Jaime didn't move either.   
“Dinner’s ready, by the way,” Sansa announced. “If you two want to stop staring at each other like you've never met before.”  
Brienne blushed in embarrassment. Jaime ran his hand through his golden locks and looked away, bending to pick up Tommen and carry him into the dining room.   
Over dinner, the kids babbled on about school. Tommen spoke more than Brienne had ever heard him speak in one sitting. He ran off to get the picture he drew after he finished eating, identifying each person and again hinting that he wanted Miss Tarth to be part of the family. Brienne stared at her plate while Sansa smirked.   
“And are these Christmas cookies?” Jaime asked, breaking the tension.  
“Yes, Uncle Jaime, just like the ones you made! I showed yours to Miss Tarth today, but she…” Tommen paused. Brienne looked up and held her breath. “She wanted to know if I made them. I said no, but…” He paused again. “I'd like to make them. I know Mom thinks they're stupid and I know they make you sad, but I'd like to try. To show Miss Tarth what I can do! Maybe Sansa can make them with me? The ones she made with Myrcy's class came out so much prettier than yours!”  
Jaime swallowed his water and set the empty glass down with a thud. The expression in his eyes was unreadable. He stood up abruptly, excused himself, and left the room.   
Tommen started to sniff. “Did I say something bad?” He looked so sad and so scared.   
“No no no, not at all, dear.” Sansa was kneeling by his side in an instant. “Bri, go find Jaime.”  
Brienne wandered down the hall towards the bathroom, assuming that must be where he had gone. Finding the door open ajar, she knocked tentatively. “Jaime?”  
“Mmhmm,” came his response.   
“Can I come in?”  
“Now's not the best time for you to need the bathroom, Brienne.”  
“I don't need the bathroom. Sansa sent me to see if you're okay.”  
“If I were okay, would I be hiding from my niece and nephew in the bathroom of my best friend's flat?”  
At least his sarcasm was still there.   
“I'm coming in.” Brienne counted to five, like she would for a child crying in the cubby area, and slowly pushed the door open.   
Jaime was leaning against the counter, holding himself up, just barely holding himself together.   
“Jaime?” Brienne walked over and gently placed a hand on his back. She felt him shudder with unshed sobs. “Jaime.” She gently pulled him from the counter and into her arms. He was only slightly shorter than she was and he fit nicely against her. Not that she should be thinking anything of the sort at a time like this… “Sansa told me what today is. I'm sorry. I know what it's like. My mother died when I was five. It doesn’t stop hurting.”  
“I'm sorry,” he whispered between tears. “I didn't know.”  
“Do you talk to anyone about it?” Jaime shook his head in response. “Not that I'm an actual licensed psychologist, but I'm more than happy to listen. I think it'd be good for you.”  
“I…I’d like that. Having the kids now is making it worse.” Jaime spoke from where his head was buried in the crook of Brienne’s neck.   
“And the cookies?”  
Jaime shuddered. “I remember making them with her. Cersei destroyed the recipe after her death. Cookies are stupid, after all. I never tried to make them until now, with the kids. I thought it would be a fun thing to do as a family. But I was wrong. The recipe was wrong, the shapes were wrong, I couldn't even decorate them correctly!”  
“It's okay,” Brienne assured him. “I have my mother's recipe we can use.”  
“You do?” Jaime pulled away and looked up at her.   
She nodded and smiled.   
“You have the most beautiful eyes,” he said, staring at her in wonder. He reached a hand up as if to brush her cheek, then dropped it. “Like sapphires. Did you know that?”  
Before Brienne could answer, Sansa was at the door, which both had forgotten to close after Brienne came in.   
“I have the kids settled down for a Christmas show and changed them into their spare pajamas. Are you okay?” Sansa looked inquisitively between them. “Did I interrupt something?”  
“No.”  
“Absolutely not!”  
Sansa looked doubtful. “Come out when you're ready. And you can all stay the night, if you want. It's Friday. The kids are already comfortable. Bri and I can share like the old camping days!” She looked between them again, a question in her eye. “Unless you two…?” She smirked and turned away.   
“Sansa!” Brienne started to go after her, but Jaime tugged on her arm.   
“She's just playing.”  
Of course, it's not possible Jaime would be interested in Brienne in any way other than as Tommen's teacher, and maybe as a friend, or a friend of a friend. Brienne felt her heart drop. She'd gotten lost in the feel of him. That, their love of history, they're shared studies in psychology, his eyes, his comment on her eyes. She swallowed her disappointment and tried to put on a happy face.   
It was then that she realized that Jaime hadn't let go of her arm and instead had dropped his hand to entangle it in hers. This was confusing.   
“I should hire my own psychologist, I know. I'll make some calls on Monday. But, if you were serious…” Jaime took a breath. “I'd like to talk. I can't keep doing this with the kids. It's not fair to them.”  
“It's not fair to you either, Jaime. It's not healthy.”  
“I know.”  
“Are you staying?”  
“Yes, now that the kids are in their pajamas, they'll be too upset to leave. Saturday mornings with Sansa mean pancakes with sprinkles. And almost anything else they want. Sansa’s been a lifesaver since I brought them up here. We may have taken over her entire spare room.”  
Brienne laughed. “Sansa loves it, I'm sure. She's just like Cat, only happy the more children are running around.”  
Jaime smiled. “You're right.” He looked down at their entangled hands shyly. “If you're staying too, can we talk tonight, after they go to bed?”  
Brienne felt bad. She wanted to help Jaime, but didn't know if midnight talks would be the best way to do it.   
“I'm sorry,” he said, pulling away from her hand and stepping back. “I shouldn't have asked.”  
“No, not at all. It's just…” I don't want to have an emotional conversation with the man I've slowly developed a crush on… shit, it was a crush… at midnight while he's in his pajamas… “I don't have spare pajamas here and Sansa’s won't fit me.”  
“Oh!” Jaime looked relieved. “If that's all, I'm sure you'll fit into mine.”  
Brienne felt the blush creep up her cheeks as she imagined herself wearing Jaime's clothes. This was not working.   
“Let me go get you a pair!”   
Before Brienne could stop him, Jaime was out of the bathroom and halfway down the hall to the spare room. Brienne smacked her forehead in defeat.   
“Look, these should be perfect!” Jaime bounded back with a pair of pajamas covered in knights and dragons. “Here you are, wench!”  
Wench? Where the hell did that come from?   
After the kids fell asleep on the couch, Sansa, Brienne, and Jaime moved into the kitchen for a nightcap, but when Sansa said it was time for bed, Brienne and Jaime just looked at each other. Jaime nodded.   
“I'll come to bed eventually, Sansa, but I told Jaime we could talk. About his mom, my mom, the kids.” She reached for Jaime's hand under the table and grasped it. It was meant to be a friendly gesture only, one of support, but feeling his fingers wrapped around hers after a few glasses of wine made her heart race. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.   
“I understand,” Sansa nodded. For once she made no comments about what Brienne and Jaime might be doing late at night, alone. She wanted to – she couldn't wait to give them the safe sex lecture she'd planned since she first saw them together at orientation, each entirely oblivious that they were smitten with each other from day one. (It amazed Sansa at that moment that she'd kept these two friends from each other for years, never even introducing them on one of Jaime's trips north from King's Landing, and that it wasn't until Jaime moved here permanently with the kids that they'd met.) But now was not the time. She would hint and joke and push until they realized they were perfect for each other when Jaime was a little less fragile. She put her wine glass in the sink and hugged both goodnight.   
With Sansa gone, it was awkward at first. They were also only a room away from where the children slept on the couch. Jaime almost poured himself another drink, but opted for water. “This is going to be difficult enough as it is without the alcohol. Though my brother Tyrion would insist the alcohol was necessary.” He forced a laugh and sat back down. “So. This is what my patients feel like when they meet with me.”  
Brienne laughed at that. Jaime loved her laugh and found it contagious. They laughed until they heard a cough coming from the couch and realized they should be quiet.   
“We could go to my room?” Jaime suggested. “We’ll be less likely to disturb them.”  
Brienne nodded, hoping that any blush on her face could be attributed to the wine from earlier. She'd never been invited into a man's bedroom, though technically this wasn't Jaime’s room and she'd been in it plenty of times when crashing at Sansa’s. Once in the room, they both stood awkwardly aware that the only places to sit were the bed or the floor.   
Jaime finally broke the stalemate. “We either sit next to each other on the bed or the floor. We're adults. If we pick the floor, we'll be uncomfortable. There’s no reason to avoid the bed. We can even tell Sansa we got into bed together!” Jaime grinned like the Cheshire cat.   
Brienne nodded her silent agreement and got under the covers on one side of the bed, sitting propped up against the pillows and the headboard. Once Jaime was also comfortable (not that Brienne would say she was comfortable in bed with her crush), he turned off the overhead light, leaving a wolf nightlight the only source of illumination in the room. He started to talk.  
Jaime talked. And talked. And talked. About life with his mother, and life after her death. About his sister’s hatred of anything related to their mom or her passing. About how his father changed after the death, becoming even more distant and harsh. About Tyrion's struggles to fit in, and Jaime's attempts to protect him from his father and his sister. About striking out against what his father wanted to try to become his own man. About seeing his sister emotionally abuse his niece and nephew when still with their father, her infidelities, and her unfortunate attempt to divorce from him and take all his money, using the children as pawns when convenient and otherwise ignoring them, even to the point of abandoning them at daycare overnight or with servants for several days. About his attempts to protect the children and ensure they were loved, while struggling secretly with all his own baggage. He cried, silent tears at first, then openly after Brienne took him into her arms. She wept with him, telling of her mother's death, and the deaths of her siblings. She got close to revealing that she felt unloved in general, something she'd never admitted out loud, and was prepared to go into the horrific mocking she'd suffered, but Jaime was asleep in her arms before she could. She held him all night, then slipped out of the house before anyone awoke.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne confronts the fact that she ran away from Jaime... and both she and Jaime confront his vulnerability with the children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! Happy New Year!

Brienne felt bad leaving, but had barely slept. She was happy to comfort Jaime, but needed her own self-care at the moment. She left a note the Sansa and took off. At noontime, when she returned from a run in the snow, she had a text from Sansa and texts from an unknown number.

Sansa: Jaime's very nervous. He's afraid he did something wrong. I gave him your number.

Unknown: Thank you for last night. It was helpful. I haven't slept that well since Myrcy and Tom came to stay. 

Unknown: But I wish you were hear when I woke up. 

Unknown: I'm sorry I couldn't listen to you before falling asleep. 

Unknown: I'd like to make it up to you. Dinner tonight? Cat will have the kids.

At 3:30, Sansa showed up at Brienne's flat unannounced. “You're going to dinner tonight, right?” she said by way of hello.

Brienne shrugged. 

“He hasn't heard from you.”

Brienne just opened the door wider and let her in, shutting out the cold behind her.

“I told him you were probably running. And that’d I’d check on you.”

Still silence.

“You like him.”

Nothing.

“You're scared.”

Brienne turned and walked into the kitchen.

“He bares himself to you and you comfort him, yet you're too afraid to go on a date?!”

Brienne turned quickly. “I don't date, Sansa. Men like that don't date me. No men date me. As soon as we sit down alone in a room with the light on, he'll realize that. And I'd rather not deal with that humiliation.”

Sansa growled. Sweet and gentle she was, most of the time, but she could be as fierce as a wolf when she wanted to be. She dumped the contents of her bag on the counter. “Sit and face me.” Brienne knew better than to push her luck. She sat. “Jaime will be here in less than an hour. He's dropping the kids with my mom now.”

Sansa started rifling through the items on the counter, applying light layers of makeup to Brienne’s face and gentle product to her hair. She'd done this enough to know exactly how much was too much and how much was just right.

“It doesn't have to be a date. You don't need to have sex. You don’t even need to kiss him. But you like him, he likes you. You're both single. And you made him feel like an ass for spilling his guts to you because your reaction was to leave. Luckily he knows that wasn’t your intent. But the only for me to get that point across to him was to tell him there are things in your past that make you question getting close to any man.”

“Sansa!”

“Bri. You walked out on him. He was panicking. I told him you're an idiot.”

The doorbell rang.

“It hasn’t even been thirty minutes!”

“Oops, he's early. Oh well, we're done here anyway.” Sansa was too nonchalant for Brienne to believe the early arrival wasn't planned. “Go change if you want. I'll get the door.” 

Brienne scowled and went to find a nicer top to pair with her jeans. She returned with her coat in hand to find Jaime attempting to casually lean against the kitchen counter and talk to Sansa, but looking more like an overeager puppy about to go on his first walk. A hush fell over the flat.

“Brienne has something to say to you, Jaime.”

Brienne flushed. She tried to throw daggers at Sansa with her eyes, but Jaime got in the way and whatever look was on her face immediately turned into a flustered one. She sighed. I’m sorry I ran out, Jaime. I thought...”

Sansa cut her off. “Nope, that's it. That's all that matters. Now I'm leaving.” With no more than a quick glance between her two friends, she practically ran out the door.

“Sansa’s intense,” Jaime said, trying to figure out how to proceed.

“That's the understatement of the year,” laughed Brienne.

Jaime took a few steps towards Brienne. “I assume you got my text?” Brienne nodded. “Then you know I'm grateful for being able to talk last night. I needed it.” Jaime gulped and took another step forward. “But it couldn't have been easy to listen and not get to share. I understand why you left. I'm sorry I got so tired. I felt really vulnerable, but comfortable at the same time. And exhausted.” Jaime attempted to laugh. “My poor patients do this all the time. Good thing they don't fall asleep in my office!”

Brienne laughed. “That's true!”

Jaime took another step forward and tentatively took Brienne's hand in his. “I like when you laugh.” He hesitated. “Sansa told me things that may not have been her right to tell. About how men treat you.” He watched Brienne's face for any sign of discomfort. Seeing none, he continued. “You deserve to have someone who makes you laugh. And smile. And loves the shine in your sapphire eyes.” Brienne blushed. “I know I was a bit overwhelming last night. But if you're interested in seeing if maybe there’s something between us… I mean, Tommen's already drawing pictures of us together…”

“He doesn’t like when you're sad,” Brienne interrupted him. Jaime raised an eyebrow in question. “He’s afraid you're sad and that you cry because he and Myrcella moved in.”

“Seven hells.” Jaime pulled his hand away and ran it through his hair, turning away from Brienne. She stepped close and put a hand on his shoulder.

“You have a lot on your plate right now, Jaime. He's five, so he doesn't understand. It's a natural thought.”

Jaime leaned into Brienne's hand and raised his other hand to cover hers. “That's how old you were, when…”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Just tell them why you're upset or sad. You don’t need to hide your tears from them. It's important to teach them that real men can cry. And to talk about why, so they don't worry that it's them.” Brienne spoke from experience, never sure if her dad had been upset at her after her mother's and siblings' deaths, or if her was upset at life and the gods, or some random thing. “You can cry in front of me too.”

Jaime turned at that, looking at Brienne with tears in his eyes. “Thank you.”

Brienne pulled him close, holding him again.

Jaime pulled back after a few minutes, embarrassed. “Well, I make a lousy date. But I think you called me a real man?” 

“How can you go from so upset to so cocky that fast?!”

“Just trying to stay positive!”

“You're ridiculous.”

“But you find that attractive.”

“You wish.”

“I do,” he replied, his voice suddenly low and husky. Jaime took a deep breath. “Because I’ve been fascinated by you since I saw your picture with Sansa on the Faceless Book a year ago. I was too afraid to ask to be introduced when I wasn't living here, but I fully intended to ask after I moved up. Only I didn't get a chance with orientation almost immediately after we settled in and I realized that the woman I wanted to meet for a year was also the teacher that I'd thought was perfect for Tommen.”

Brienne blushed. “I don’t believe you.” 

“I know.” Jaime sighed. “Why do you think I talk to you every day when I pick up Tommen?”

“To see how he's doing. Because you care about him. I wish all parents or guardians could care as much as you.”

Jaime shifted uncomfortably. “If all parents cared, he'd still be with his mom.”

“Oh Jaime, I'm sorry.”

“We just can't get away from this, can we?”

“This isn't easy, Jaime, what you're trying to do. It's very admirable.”

Jaime shrugged. “Can I…?” He gestured to the stool next to the counter. 

“Oh Gods, I'm a horrible host. Yes, sit. I thought we'd be going…” Brienne paused. “Do you want to just stay here? We can get something delivered. And not worry about what we talk about in a restaurant.”

“I'd like that, very much.” Jaime took Brienne's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.


End file.
